


set me on fire

by kevinday



Series: a love i won't fight [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: ANDREW WITH GLASSES, M/M, soft lil boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-30 01:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12643137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kevinday/pseuds/kevinday
Summary: a snapshot of andrew and neil's relationship: nothing new, just neil admiring andrew, and andrew having none of it.





	set me on fire

**Author's Note:**

> i am such a sucker for andreil. soft andreil. and i'm finally posting something i don't hate! yay go me  
> this was originally meant to be longer, and with a (minimal) plot, but i decided to just split everything up and make it a series, instead. this has no plot at all, and i haven't written in so long, i am a wreck, good BYE  
> title is from bella ferraro's set me on fire (i cry)  
> (this one is...for u..my fam...the lunchables, i love)

Andrew is wearing the sweater Bee gave him for Christmas two years ago, and Neil can’t stop admiring it. It looks cozy and warm, which is much needed with the winter chill looming over them as December creeps around the corner, and the sleeves come up just past Andrew’s knuckles.

 _Adorable_ , he’d say, if he didn’t know any better.

Instead, he straightens from leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of warm hot chocolate in his hands, and walks towards the couch where Andrew is sat with a puzzle book in his lap. His glasses have slid down his nose, and little sweater paws move to push them back up.

Neil sticks his hand of hot chocolate out to Andrew, who takes it without looking up from his book. Slowly, the other takes a sip, and Neil watches with a smile as Andrew’s forehead crease in concentration.

“Stop staring,” Andrew says, annoyance thin in his monotone voice.

Neil shrugs, taking a seat beside him, careful not to move too much in case the mug spills. “I’m just admiring,” he retorts.

Andrew rolls his eyes. He takes another sip of his drink before leaning forward to set it down on the coffee table at his feet. With a shake of his head, he deadpans, “I don't appreciate you doing that.”

“No, but I’m appreciating _you_.” Neil hums mindlessly, leaning his head closer to take a look at Andrew’s progress with his puzzle book. So far, most of the crossword clues are filled in. He's good at things like this, and Neil likes it; another layer of Andrew only  _he_ gets to see. 

His reply receives another roll of the eyes, but Neil smiles triumphantly as Andrew’s mouth twitches into something other than a frown. A smile, with much reluctance, but the smallest of smiles Andrew rarely displays nonetheless.

“You’re annoying me, Josten,” he mutters under his breath. “A whole fucking lot.”

“I’ve heard that from you too many times in these past four years to believe you.”

One of Andrew’s sweater-covered hands balls into a fist. “I will punch you.”

Neil grins, shrugging with nonchalance. He knows Andrew won’t do it, but he just loves to rile him up. “Hit me with your best shot.”

Shaking his head in disapproval, Andrew takes off his glasses, folding them before setting them down atop the puzzle book. His turns sideways, eyes meeting Neil’s, and the latter’s smile drops. The buzzing picks up, like a warm hum in his chest, and it’s those hazel eyes that spark the fire alight.

“You’re an idiot,” Andrew tells him with as much anger he feels, which Neil knows is none at all. “And I hate you.”

Neil is certain that if Andrew keeps looking at him like that, his hands will move on their own and reach out to touch him, so he curls them up as tight as he can, shoving them into his lap. “What percent am I beyond _now_?”

Andrew lifts his puzzle book and glasses, placing them on the table beside his hot chocolate. He shifts his entire body sideways, the entirety of him facing Neil. He scoots up on the couch, taking away the space between them inch by inch until all is left is the final few centimeters. Neil's breath hitches. Andrew is almost right on top of him, propping himself up with one arm on the couch, the other floating between them, sweater fingers so close to Neil’s face.

Naturally, Andrew answers, “A thousand.”

Neil’s shit-eating grin surfaces. There is a fire burning in those hazel eyes, and he can just about see himself in the middle of it. “Not bad,” he says, because he knows it’ll annoy Andrew some more, rile him up, push him over the edge.

Andrew’s growl comes out soft and quiet, right from his chest. “ _Two_ thousand _._ ”

Neil swallows the lump of giddy nervousness lodged in his throat. “Is that all you got.”

Andrew is silent for a few moments. His eyes don’t drift away from Neil’s, though they're burning and full of a fury only he's familiar with, but Neil is certain he doesn’t want them to. This isn't anger - at least, Neil trusts it isn't.

Fingers flutter close to Neil’s cheeks. Now, he's sure it isn't anger, but something _more_. He breathes in the cologne, the musk of cigarettes embedded in Andrew’s clothes, his skin, breathes in the soap he uses every day, the shampoo they both share. _Home_ is a familiar word, and Andrew is at the root of it.

“Neil,” Andrew growls, “yes or no?”

There are only ever a few times Andrew chooses to say his name outright. Sometimes, when he’s extremely pissed off, in a warning to Neil to stay away for a while before he becomes a consequence. Sometimes, when he wakes dead in the night from a nightmare, clutching the sheets, gripping Neil’s forearm, wanting to make sure he’s still right there, for him, for the both of them. Sometimes, in the very rare times, when he lets it slip without thinking – that is how Neil recognizes Andrew's calm from his tempest, his compromised happiness.

This time, it is out of affection. The last time Andrew had said it this way, he had Neil carefully pressed up against lockers, kissing him until Neil’s knees gave out. They had won the game against Kevin’s team, rather miraculously, and though Andrew hadn't straightforwardly expressed it, he had been _giddy_ at the result.

When Andrew says his name, it drives him crazy – _every single time_. The fire in him roars and bends into the little crevices of his chest, his stomach, his lungs, wiping him out from the inside out. _God_ , the things Andrew does to him. Even after all this time, it is an experience Neil will gladly live again and again.

“Yes,” he says in an exhale, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding.

Every inch of him, Neil adores.

Andrew wastes no time. His fingers find Neil’s cheek, soft and warm and wanting, and Neil doesn’t shut his eyes, doesn’t want to miss a thing. Andrew leans in, breath shaking reluctantly, quiet and not wanting to be heard, and Neil wants to laugh because the things they do to _each other_.

Neil is overwhelmed by Andrew’s scent and his warmth and his presence, and by the time their lips find home in each other, Andrew has him pinned down, a hand on Neil’s neck, the other on the arm of the couch. He lets his eyes close then, to drink him in. Sweater paws move to stroke his marred cheek, gentle lips crawl to smooth away the memory of it all, and Neil's heart is bursting, bursting, bursting. He smiles against Andrew's lips.

Andrew is the first to pull away. “Three thousand,” he says, out of breath, cheeks painted a lovely pink.

Neil shivers out a laugh, reaching to hold the hand Andrew still has resting on neck to entwine their fingers together. “That’s better.”

Pulling back completely, but careful not to let go of Neil's hand, Andrew settles into his seat, reaching for his glasses. Neil watches him put them on, another smile threatening to rip him open because Andrew with glasses is a  _good_ look. Even more so knowing that he only wears them around Neil. 

Picking up his puzzle book with his free hand, Andrew sighs. He picks up his pen, ducking his head down. “I hate you,” he whispers, voice completely void of it. “I hate you. _So fucking much_."

Neil sits with him, watching Andrew work through the clues and the letters, and when he's finally done, he lets out a content sigh. Andrew is checking over his completed puzzle, pausing every few seconds to slide his glasses back up his nose. 

It is a pleasant, welcome surprise when Andrew gives their entwined hands a squeeze. He doesn't turn his head to meet Neil's eyes, instead reaching for his hot chocolate and pouring his entire focus on the drink, but Neil feels as if those hazel eyes are still gazing at him.

He smiles. He thinks he can live like this for a long, long time.


End file.
